


Dark Dreams

by Filthmonger



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Breasts, Consensual Non-Consent, Dreams, Dubious Consent, F/F, Lactation, Light Bondage, Milking, Molestation, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Other, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Teasing, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 16:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12751584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthmonger/pseuds/Filthmonger
Summary: Shauntal has finally come across the most powerful opponent an author can face; Writer's block. After her ususal methods of inspiring herself fail, she turns to the dream-expertise of Dr Fennel to find a new source of motivation. However, her dreams prove to be a little more lascivious than she first imagined...





	Dark Dreams

Shauntal sat back into the comfortable leather armchair and pursed her lips. The chair, like much of her wardrobe and sense of décor, was a deep purple and styled as if from another century; one where shadows loomed and ghosts haunted gothic mansions. Her arms were wrapped in black silk gloves that reached to her elbows before moving into a tight shirt. Her fingers tapped on thighs covered in equally black tights, and an almost indecently short, pleated skirt. Her usual expansive ribbon lay draped over a hat-stand, her short bob of hair –the same purple as her skirt and shirt- to move freely. Even her writing style and methods were rooted in the past. Papers lay in neat piles across an ornate mahogany desk, framing the antique typewriter that held her attention. More specifically, her attention was held by the single piece of paper loaded into the drum.

The blank piece of paper.

The blank piece of paper that taunted her every waking moment.

She sighed, pushing her rounded glasses back up her petite nose. It had been a few days and still nothing had come to her. It wasn’t as if she needed to write another bestseller –her career as a member of the Elite Four satisfied most financial needs- but what was the point of being a writer if you didn’t, well… write? Even her usual methods of inspiration had failed to excite her. Few challengers had made their way to battle her and the others as of late, and those that had left something to be desired. Even the recent events regarding Team Plasma had done little to stoke the fires of her imagination. No, her motivation was dead. Deader than a dust covered funerary mask.

She scribbled that down.

Shauntal stood up, stretched and gently smoothed out her clothes. There wasn’t much point in just sitting around and waiting. She wrapped the enormous bow around her neck, checking herself in a large and somewhat intimidating mirror. Perhaps she could retreat to Caitlin’s villa in Undella town? She shuddered at the thought of sharing it with the other four who usually appeared in the summer. They weren’t bad people by any stretch, it was just so… exhausting. Especially during the evenings.

Satisfied that she didn’t look like she had spent all of three days cooped up in her study, Shauntal made her way outside. But where to go? She could roam Unova for a while, like the trainers she so admired, and see what random happenings could inspire her writing spirit. But the trails were full of young trainers battling each other, and it would be so unfair of her to interfere. She doubted there were many who stood a chance against her, and fewer still who wouldn’t be intimidated by her assorted collection of ghost Pokémon. The poor things had such a terrible reputation. She sighed, hand hovering on the door knob to the outside world. Maybe she just needed a rest for a while. It had to be better than crushing the dreams of some up and coming champion too early.

Dreams…

She gasped aloud, clapping her hands together. Of course! Dreams! Where else could she find such raw, untapped imagination? The only barrier she had was remembering them, and she knew exactly who could help her with that. She pulled open the door excitedly, tossing a pokéball into the street. Her Golurk’s enormous, phantom bulk loomed over her as it knelt to offer her its hand. She hopped onto the waiting palm, pressing herself tightly to the cold clay.

“To Striaton City!” She cried, holding on for dear life as Golurk rocketed into the sky.

***

Shauntal knocked three times before the door finally opened. The woman who answered was just a few inches taller than her and wearing a lab coat. Her hair was long and straight, reaching down past her knees, and the square glasses she wore cemented the impression that this was a woman of science.

“Hey there! Can I help you with something?” She said with a broad smile.

“Oh, hi.” Shauntal said. “I’m looking for Doctor Fennel?”

“That’s me! Are you here about the Game Sync?”

“U-um, no, I’m afraid not… I’m Shauntal, one of the elite-” She squeaked as Fennel leapt forward and took hold of her hand.

“No way! The Shauntal? I love your books!” Fennel’s eyes sparkled. “Volkner is one of my favourite characters! And that scene in the distortion world was incredible!”

“O-oh!” Shauntal could feel her cheeks burn.

“Come in, come in! My room’s just up the stairs.” Fennel said. She ushered Shauntal inside, a fountain of praise as the two of them moved upwards. The cream carpeted stairs eventually opened into large, l-shaped room. A striped carpet of cream and grey, a rug of zebra white and brown and an assortment of yellow cushions, paper boxes and paintings gave the place a warm, homely feeling. In stark contrast to this was the large, purple machine dominating the space; a central pillar or tank with assorted computers, servers or miscellaneous gadgetry surrounding it. Nestled amidst all of this was a simple bed, upon which Shauntal was bidden to sit.

“So!” Fennel said, pulling up a cushion. “What brings you to my home?”

“I… heard you were doing work with dreams, and was wondering if you might be able to help me.” Shauntal said, sidling away slightly from the whirring, glowing column. She started as something gently bumped into her head: turning round she recognised the floating, pink tapir like creature as a Pokémon.

“Sorry! Don’t mind Munna, she helps with my research.” Fennel said. “I use her ability to extract the dreams from Pokémon to help with the Game Sync. I used to use a Musharna, but there was a bit of an accident…”

“Is it just Pokémon you can extract dreams from?”

“Hmm? No, Munna can extract human dreams too. Most of the time she just eats nightmares, though. Why, have you been having some bad dreams?”

“No, not at all! I was just wondering… can you record dreams. Or save them?”

“Sure! I have a whole library of them stored somewhere. Was there something you wanted preserved? Oh! Did you have an idea you’re going to use for your next book? Can I be in it?” Fennel was practically bouncing on the spot.

“N-no!” Shauntal waved her hands. “I-I mean, I could include you… I was saying that I haven’t had an idea… in fact, that’s why I came to you. I was hoping you could record or give me dreams to help inspire me. “

“Hmm…” Fennel sat back on her heels. “I can’t give you any specific dream, but if you want me to record them, then that’s not a problem at all!”

“Really?”

“Sure! All you have to do is fall asleep on that bed and we can start.”

Shauntal complied, pulling her rounded glasses from her face and setting them on a nearby table. “Um… I don’t know if I can sleep with all the noise. And with you watching me.”

Oh, don’t worry! That’s what Munna is for.” Fennel said, leaping onto her feet and adjusting the various dials.

“Munna? How will she help?”

“Well… Have you ever been hypnotised by a Pokémon before?” Fennel asked.

“A couple of times… ghost types can be a little mischievous.” Shauntal replied. She hoped the hint of blush on her cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

“Gotcha. Just sit back, relax, and let Munna do all the work.”

Shauntal settled onto the bed, looking upwards at the now fuzzy ceiling. She could make out the pink blob that was Munna, and watched as it gently swayed from side to side. Side… to side… A soft singing filled her ears and slowly her eyelids began to droop.

***

The house loomed, a dark shadow in the low evening light. Towering, warped and rickety it seemed to sway in the howling wind, creaking at every moment. A forest of twisted trees grasping pitifully at the sky surrounded it, leaving no gap in their snarling wall. The ground was blackened and bleak. A gravel path wound its way around and towards the veranda, bone white and thoroughly uninviting. The door was open, swinging gently in the breeze and exposing the raw blackness of the void that waited inside.

A little cliché, Shauntal thought, but not terrible.

The path crunched underfoot as she made her way forwards. The open door squeaked as she passed, and the floorboards groaned under her weight. Every room was much the same; large, devoid of any furniture beyond a few broken chairs, and caked in dust. The whole place stunk of mould and decay, and the only sounds of life were Spinaraks scurrying out of sight along thick cobwebs. She tiptoed around a deep hole in the splintered floorboards and reached out towards the mantle of a long dead fireplace, brushing the dust from an empty picture frame. Not a clue as to who was here, and why they left. A chilling mystery, but not the inspiration she desired.

Something creaked behind her and she snapped round, staring at the doorway.

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Shauntal stepped back, her heart pounding as the slither of the invisible horrors echoed around her. She reached for the pokeballs at her belt… and her heart skipped a beat as she did not find them. A crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning lit up the room, her eyes having to once again adjust to the gloom as they leapt from door to door. The house creaked in the wind, but no other sound met her ears. Her breathing slowed.

The crash of wood being torn apart sounded beneath her. She barely had time to scream before a dozen slimy appendages burst from the ground, wrapping tightly around her body and pulling her into the splintered hole they had torn open. Her hand thrust out into the open air, groping for something to hold onto, but it was too late; she watched the faint light recede as she was pulled into the abyss.

When her eyes adjusted to the gloom she found herself strung by her limbs, held in the middle of a large subterranean chamber. The walls seemed to pulse-no, writhe. Like they were covered in a hundred undulating worms that weaved into an incomprehensible pattern. The thick, strong and curiously warm bindings around her wrists and ankles seemed to originate from this fleshy mass. The chamber was damp and hot, like a sauna, and filled with a squelching that set Shauntal’s nerves on edge. She didn’t know if she should be curious or horrified. Long, stringy things hung from the ceiling, and slowly waved in a non-existent breeze. The whole place stank of raw meat. Was this… a stomach? Had she been swallowed? She shook the thought form her head; no, there was nothing that suggested digestion. Perhaps this was just a lair for... whatever had taken her. 

Something squirmed across her body; her eyes flickered over to watch as another thick tentacle, identical to the ones on her limbs, wrapped itself around her waist and prodded at her clothing. She tried to buck it off her, but more and more slimy digits curled and poked and squeezed around her helpless form. Shauntal yelped as her ribbon was torn from her. Her hands were pulled tightly behind her back, wrapped up by warm, flexible flesh. Her legs kicked weakly at her captor, another pair of wriggling tentacles lashing around her ankles and tugging them apart. She screamed, she pleaded, she begged but the beast didn’t listen. A thick, slimy tentacle descended from above, prodding her face and leaving a faint trail in its wake. It traced its way down her neck, hovering above the plunging neckline of her shirt. She shook her head, trying to move her torso away from it but the ones around her arms tugged tighter, forcing her shoulders back in almost painful bondage.

The tentacle slithered forward, sliding between her breasts. It poked and squirmed slowly down her body like a thick, warm tongue, soaking her clothes through with its viscous slime. Shauntal groaned as it probed her stomach, sliding further and further until its tip re-emerged under her skirt. She whined and it retreated, curling round her breasts with a curious squeeze. A gasp left her as the tip slipped under her bra, grinding roughly along her nipple before wriggling its way back down to her soft belly. It stiffened and, with a single powerful tug, ripped her clothes away.

She screamed, trying to curl into a ball and wincing as the tattered remains of her bra dropped off her shoulders and into the writhing abyss below. Her tights and panties were the only things remaining, the rest of her soft, slightly chubby body on full display. Her sizable breasts jiggled with her every movement, swinging freely in the warm air. The tentacles poked and prodded the naked flesh, flicking across her nipples and eliciting yet more indignant shouts.

She shuddered as the slick, sticky appendages slithered over her skin, making it crawl. A curious tentacle slipped up her under the band of her tights, and she watched as the bulge squirmed its way down, down, down to brush along her panty-covered cunt. She bit her lip and her knees knocked together as it continued, wrapping around her arse and grinding its ridged length into her. She could feel a tear beginning to well in her eyes; what kind of depraved nightmare was this?

… But was it a nightmare?

She groaned as the ridged tentacle ground harder. Fennel had said the dreams were all hers, and no nightmares would come. And she had been looking for inspiration… this horror, this disgust… such raw emotions! The tentacles tugged her body tighter, close to her breaking point. She bit her lip and held her tongue. She would be lying if she said she had never written such things, but to experience this kind of degradation. This kind of… fantasy…

They tugged again, and this time she could not hold back her moan.

Immediately the tentacles advanced. One slithered around her neck, curling round like a living collar and tightening. Not enough to choke her, but enough to press and rub her across the sensitive skin. Her knees clenched together as the one in her tights ground harder and harder, the dull throbbing of her cunt growing stronger. Two new tentacles slid around her stomach and up her body, their tips resembling fleshy flower buds instead of the usually tapered ends. Slowly the buds split open, strings of sticky saliva hanging between each ‘petal’, before lashing out and attaching themselves to a nipple. She screamed as they suckled; a mix between a warm mouth and a tight clamp that tugged harshly around the nubs.

A soft rip caught her attention as the tentacle in her tights began to pull away. She moaned, her body tensing as the fabric dug into her skin, before finally the flimsy fabric gave away. The thing slithered its way back up, slipping under the band of her purple panties and pulling them down to her knees, exposing the neatly trimmed bush beneath. A tentacle covered in hard ridges wasted no time in grinding against her, each bump bringing another wave of pleasure as it brushed over her folds. Another one of the bud-tipped appendages slithered down, opening wide above her cunt. She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, but it was quickly filled by a thick, slimy limb. She moaned around the phallic thing in her mouth, her tongue lapping and swirling around the salty flesh and musky slime, and watched as the flower bud descended upon her. Her hips bucked upwards of their own accord, hastening its descent, until finally the bud latched around her clit.

Shauntal’s mind exploded with brilliant white the moment the tentacle began to suckle her clit; the orgasm washing over her body and setting her twitching madly with each aftershock. Toes curled and eyes rolled, all thought obliterated in an instant. She lay suspended, shivering as the tentacles slowed to let her ride it all out. Muffled moans floated out of her, her head swimming and limbs aching with sweaty satisfaction.  
And then the tentacles resumed.

She groaned, her sensitive spots turned up to almost painful levels as her clit was tugged, her breasts were squeezed and her mouth was violated. The wet noises of gasps and choking around the thick cock in her mouth filled her ears the tip sliding further and further down her throat with every thrust. She groaned as the ridged tentacle slid away from her cunt, a needy whine quickly cut off by a moan as another thick tip pressed into her folds. Her eyes rolled back again as it slid inside her, pounding away at her like she was a cheap fleshlight. The tentacles round her limbs softened, letting her hang from them like a ragdoll.

Such sensation… such eroticism! Such primal… pleasure… She giggled to herself, high on her own post-orgasm haze. She’d never written something like this before. Maybe it was a genre she could try more often.  
The suckling on her breasts grew more intense, prompting her to look down at her chest. She shuddered and groaned, her eyes widening as she followed a tiny bump in tendril’s thickness as it travelled from the bud-like tip all the way up into the dark, writhing mass above. And then another. And another! Each new bump preceded by a sharp suckle and a burst of pleasure from her breasts, until a small stream of them bubbled up and into the beast. Was it… milking her? Her back arched as the bud at her clit suckled in time with the milkers; it felt so good! She didn’t know how, or even care, all she knew was that she loved it. Food source or fuck toy, she felt utterly divine.

The tentacles shivered, the one in her mouth pulling away and finally giving her chance to breath the warm, fetid air through her mouth. She opened wide, her tongue lolling out as the phallic tip spurted thick, salty cum across her face, a few ropes splattering across her glasses and down into her waiting mouth. She swallowed greedily, her tongue flicking out across to lap up whatever it could reach just as the tentacle in her cunt slammed as deep as it could into her. She moaned as it withdrew, hot cum leaking out of her needy slit. But still the milkers milked, keeping her on the edge of her next orgasm. She whined, looking pleadingly towards the writhing mass. She opened her legs as far as she could within her bonds; no more resistance.

She squealed with delight as a tentacle slammed its length inside her cunt.

***

Shauntal’s eyes flickered as they adjusted to the bright lights of the room. She groaned, half from the weight of sleep but also from the pleasant throbbing all over her body. Her breasts felt like they were still being kneaded or suckled, and something warm and wet was ravaging her cunt. She gasped, her hips wriggling with delight as a goofy smile crept across her face. Slowly she raised her head, blinking away the last few dregs of sleep from her mind.

Her breasts were indeed being suckled; by a pair of small pumps attached to each nipple that quivered with every mechanical hiss, setting her chest jiggling as drops of imaginary milk were coaxed out of them. Her clothes had been carefully opened and lay beneath her sweaty frame; even her tights and panties had been slid away and folded to one side. Shining, sticky sex toys lay in a haphazard heap at the foot of the bed, no doubt slick with her juices. But by far the most intriguing, and concerning, thing of all was Fennel. More specifically, the fact she was naked save for her lab coat, and had her face buried between Shauntal’s thighs. Shauntal shuddered, biting her lip as Fennel’s tongue curled around her clit; she knew what she was doing!

She squeezed her thighs tightly together and coughed. Fennel’s reaction was slow, but when the reality hit she pulled away from Shauntal and clasped her hands over her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed bright crimson. She twitched where she sat, her ample chest covered in the dull red, hand-shaped marks and her hips bucking almost on their own. Shauntal was suddenly aware of a low buzzing, coming from beneath the scientist.

“S-sorry!” Fennel stammered. “I-I didn’t mean to… w-well, you were having such a… a wonderful dream. I-I could see it being projected by Munna and I, um…Y-you look so sexy when you’re sleeping. And the way you were moaning and writhing and, a-and… Did you, um, get your idea?”

Shauntal looked down at the cowering girl and smiled. And then wrapped her legs tightly around their head, pulling them back into her cunt before they could make a sound.

“I did have an idea, actually. But I think you’ve given me another great one.” She purred, grinding her cunt against Fennel’s face. She moaned as she felt the scientist’s tongue slide back out over her folds. “M-mm… and maybe you can give me a-another… And another…”


End file.
